You Made the Fallen Angel
by SC3NT3DxCOLORS
Summary: Brave was never the term to describe Severus Snape. There was a nasty scar on his left arm to prove he wasn't as brave as the boy said he was. WARNING: Self-harm, suicide.


**A/N: Hello, reader! I wrote this fic to tell a sad story (though not completely cannon). Please excuse my spelling errors, as writing on my phone is extremely difficult! 3 Please review and enjoy the story~**

**WARNING: MENTIONS SELF HARM AND SUICIDE.**

Black hair covered a boy's face like curtains, a habitual gesture he had purely for defense against the world around him. A world that was cruel and unforgiving.

He was curled up in a small nook in the back of the library. He found himself there when he didn't know what to do and currently, he was at a loss. There was a pain in his chest that was radiating as tears streamed freely down his cheeks.

He had come from Dumbledore's office. The old man had just informed him his mother was dying in St. Mungo's. She was only expected to live for another few months.

There was a long moment, an eternity of silence before words were spoken.

"I know this may be hard to accept, Severus," said the bearded man. "But-"

"Save it," said the raven haired boy before him, standing. He left the office and walked down the hall, his feet taking control. His mind was completely blank, not taking in any of the sneers and hateful comments as he walked past the other students.

And that's where he was, pain wracking his body. He unintentionally let out a sob, cutting through the silent air of the library. His hand came up to touch his lips. Here he was, 16 years old and crying in the school library. Potter and his gang had every right to call him "Snivellous." He cursed and stood, deciding to go outside.

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and he would have enjoyed it if he was anyone else. But he was Severus Snape and therefore he would not enjoy the sky as it faded from blue to creamy orange, or how the clouds smeared across the sun. But he could only collapse to his knees when he was alone and rip the grass from the ground and scream. His fit lasted a long time, and when it was over, he cursed.

He used the inside of his shirt to wipe his face, trying to regain his composure. He was acting like a fool, crying like this. Crying solves nothing.

But fear welled up inside him. With his mother gone, he'd be all alone to fight his father. He supposed he should be happy for her, glad she'd finally be safe from his drunken anger.

**-Time Skip-**

He wasn't sure how it happened, but hands were placed on his back and he lost his balance. His elbows hit the stone floor as he heard three sets of laughter. One was shrill and quick, the second was deeper and had a more genuine sense of amusement, and the last was the deepest and almost insane.

Something inside him snapped. He stood calmly as Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and James Potter laughed in his face. Potter pulled out his wand, but Snape was faster. Through his vision that was blurred from tears, he screamed, "Avada Kedavra!" and almost hit the boy.

"You're fucking crazy, Snape," said Sirius, casting a stinging hex on him.

"Get a life, Potter!" he screamed as he held his injured arm. "Leave me alone! You've taken her from me, what else do you want?"

James Potter, his glasses crooked, grabbed the Slytherin by the shirt and thrust him against the wall, his wand clattering to the floor. The boy went limp in his arms. He had no reason to fight back. His world was shattered around him, Potter couldn't hurt him anymore.

"Don't you dare talk about her like you own her," he said, spit flying from his lips. Severus only smirked, his black eyes empty.

Smack!

Severus' lip began to bleed.

"Why don't you play your games on someone else, Potter?"

"Because no one deserves them quite like you, you ugly fucking freak."

From then til breakfast was a blur. But like most night, Severus skipped breakfast and stayed in his dorm where he could be alone. He took his robes off, leaving only his vest and trousers. He laid back on the bed.

What was the point?

"Everywhere you go, you're unwanted," said Severus, though he didn't know if he spoke aloud. "Tobias doesn't want you. And no one here does either. You don't belong. You're a mistake."

He sat up, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes again. He reached into his trunk and pulled out a small dagger that was razor sharp, and held it to his neck. The cold blade touched his skin. With the flick of his wrist, he'd never have to feel unwanted again. He could end it all and never have to shed another tear again. He was so sick of crying.

He pressed the sharp blade into the inside of his wrist instead, dragging it across his arm. He'd done this a thousand times, each time getting easier and easier. This was the only way he could handle everything, and although he was hurting himself, this was how he coped.

When he bled long enough to feel empty, he walked into the bathroom to clean himself up. Once he'd done that, he put the dagger away into the small pocket of his trunk he'd hand sewn and pulled his longsleeve robes on once more. He fell into a dreamless sleep and awoke early the next morning.

**-Time Skip-**

Death was not what Severus had imagined. His awareness was varying, occasionally he could hear a beep but otherwise there was only blackness and silence. He felt like he was falling but without the awful feeling in his stomach. He felt nothing at all, and not a thought could enter his head. It was very fuzzy.

It was only when he heard the beep twice did his awareness come back to him. The beeps sounded like they were under water, but his conciousness clinged to them until those two beeps became rhythmic and his eyes weren't too heavy to open and he saw white. It took a long time for his eyes to adjust, but when they did he discovered he was in some kind a hospital. His bed was next to a window and when he pooled up his strength he turned his head to see a dark sky. He looked at his left forearm, a very deep, jagged scar tore down the otherwise flawless skin. Disbelief overcame him.

"What did I do?"

He tried to stand, but that only increased his heartbeat and sounded an alarm. A nurse rushed in.

"Oh, hullo Severus! Please, return to your bed," said the very tall, curvaceous woman.

"What happened to me?"

She looked down, and gestured to his arm. "That's a suicide attempt, Mr. Snape."

He broke. What did this woman mean? He would never do that.. But then he remembered.

"You win."

Those were the last words he spoke before he dragged the dagger down as hard as he could, unbearable pain slashing though him. He held back a scream.

The beep of his heart monitor brought him back to the present. He sat on his bed and looked at the nurse.

"Why didn't I die?"

"Someone found you, luckily, before it was too late."

"That wasn't lucky."

"Yes, it was! Don't you see, life is worth it! Worth pain and misery, because there will always be a rainbow after the storm."

"Not for me," He said, gripping the crisp sheets of the bed. "Life will never be worth it for me."

The woman gave him a pitiful look before leaving. He clenched his teeth.

**-Time Skip-**

A much older Severus Snape looked down at his left forearm. What was once a horrible scar was now covered with a black tattoo that hummed with magic under his skin. He hated it more than the scar.

Yes, Severus could look in the mirror and genuinely hate himself. But one thing had changed over the years.

He found a reason to stay, a reason to keep fighting, a purpose. And with that tattoo, he was a valuable pawn in a war. A war that could not be won without him.

Yes, he had many enemies. He always had. But that didn't matter. As long as he could fight, he'd do whatever it took, even if it meant being a Death Eater. He didn't care about reputation.

With the war won, Severus Snape looked at a smiling boy with emerald green eyes and a heart of gold.

"Proffessor..." he said.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

"Thank you. For everything you've done for us. You're the bravest man I've ever known."

The older man looked down, and to Harry's surprise, a trace of a sad smile tugged at his lips, as he slowly turned and walked away. "Thank you, Mr. Potter."

He pulled up his left sleeve, and with Lord Voldemort gone the black skull tattoo had vanished, leaving behind a scar he hadn't seen in a long time. No, he certainly wasn't brave.


End file.
